What Happens In The Garage, Stays There
by Swiggle
Summary: …usually. 100 ficlit writing challenge, following your favorite gang of roller-skating, spray painting “rudies”: The GG’s! See all the occurrences at the garage that didn't make it into the game.
1. Sleeping Arrangements

A/N: Welcome to _'What Happens in the Garage, Stays in the Garage…'_ first off I'd like to thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope dearly that you enjoy reading my work. Thanks to being ill a few days ago I decided on a mere impulse to pick up my copy of Jet Set Radio Future, and have managed to get hooked on it once more. Which is why I given myself a ficlit challenge in which I will write 100 Jet Set Radio-centric ficlits based on pre-determined themes and posting them here. Hope you stick around for the ride.

Cheers.

**Ficlit:** Sleeping Arrangements  
**Rating:** K  
**Character(s):** Corn  
**Prompt #001:** Beginnings  
**Word Count: **589  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Jet Set Radio Future, or it's characters. They belong to the geniuses that created them

---

A yawn.

Then a low groan…

…added to the morning ambiance as sunbeams shone down on the blonde's face through the holes that littered the tattered maroon curtains. Keeping his eyes plastered shut Corn blindly reached out for his hat, which he assumed would be sitting upon the makeshift end table made of an old waste paper bin. A frown graced his features when his hand felt nothing except cold metal instead of the navy blue textile. The frown was quickly replaced by a lingering wince as he forced his body to switch to an upright position. Muscles in his legs and arms burned subtly, mere whispers of all the physical strain they were put under on a daily basis. Those pains would fade within the hour, nothing a well-brewed cup of coffee wouldn't fix.

His neck and spine however, protested the most, like loudly screaming toddlers in a supermarket, punishing him for neglecting to offer them proper support during the night. This was hardly a surprise. It's a fact one comes to expect when spending the night in the world's shittiest easy chair. Corn promptly made a mental note to preferably arrive home before 2am in the morning in the future. This was due to the mere fact that all other decent crashing areas had a tendency to disappear at a rather fast pace after then. Even the bathtub in which he knew Soda to be currently occupying was slightly more agreeable than 'the chair'.

Truth of the matter was, the GG's, like most if not all the other street gangs scattered throughout Toyko-to were comprised of people who had found themselves living on the streets for one reason or another. It wasn't exactly a popular topic of conversation. Understandably, their 'house' was, naturally small. Made only smaller still, seeing that the home clearly made for three people was forced to house twelve. So naturally sleeping arrangements were scarce at best. The house was generally only a place to do three things, and three things only. Eat, crash, and watch T.V., oh, and washing up was a favorable thing to do as well.

The GG's leader finally made a move to bend over and snatch his hat, which only was a few inches shy of sitting in a half eaten pizza. Corn ran a hand (with minor difficulty) through matted blond hair before ultimately replacing his hat back on his head. Eyes cast their gaze around the room, Garam, Rhyth and Jazz had not moved since he had entered the home only a few hours prior. Garam was laying on his back on the couch, large, bug-like googles laying idly on his chest, while Jazz sat curled up in a rather uncomfortable looking position by his feet using her scarf as a pillow. Rhyth had found an even more obscure pose (that still managed to seem more comfortable than 'the chair') laying on her side, on top of the couch's backboard leaning heavily against the wall legs and arms sprawled out all over. The scene in front of him caused a fond smile to tug at his lips momentarily.

Uncomfortable and unsavory as their current lifestyle might seem to outsiders looking in…

Mornings, beginnings like this Corn wouldn't trade for the world. It almost made him wish there was a camera within his reach, as he stared at them for the longest time. Just watching them breathe. His friends, his family, everything he had left.

It would make a great blackmail photo after all.

--

End 001


	2. Creamy Centers

**Ficlit:** Creamy Centers**  
Rating:** T  
**Characters: **Yoyo, Boogie, and Jazz**  
Prompt #002:** Middles  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Jet Set Radio Future, or it's characters. They belong to the geniuses that created them.

--

"So, what do you like to do to _yours_?"

A simple enough question.

Yet still it made Yoyo freeze as he approached the entrance into the kitchen. The speaker was without a doubt Boogie. Her smooth voice was unmistakable. She had that sort of voice one could listen to for hours, perhaps even lull one to sleep. However, that wasn't what made Yoyo pause to listen out of sight, it was of course the intonation that his teammate used on 'yours'. Something that made it sound important. Vital. Above all else, something private. The youngest member of the GG's couldn't help himself; he loved opportunities like this almost too much, almost as much as he loved skating. So it was only natural that he listened, hoping no one else would wander down the hallway and ruin it.

"Well…"

"Come on, girl. Spit it out already."

The other speaker was quickly identified as Jazz, which in itself wasn't very surprising at all. Ever since the Death Ball incident with the Noise Tanks at the Rokkaku Expo Site the two had become rather close. They were always off tagging together with Garam in Chou Street. What came out of the White haired girl's mouth next however couldn't have left him more stunned.

"First, I like to gently pry them open to expose the _good_ stuff." Her voice was low, mischievous.

Yoyo could feel his eyes widen visibly by a fraction, mouth hanging open ever so slightly. Pink slowly creeping into his cheeks, painting his pale features. They couldn't be possibly, speaking about, _that_, not so openly. Perhaps if it were Cube instead of Jazz. He had never pictured Jazz to be that sort of girl. Not at all.

"Then I like to slowly lick it all off until it's clean." she continues pausing for a moment before adding nonchalantly, "Then I take care of the rest."

He had to choke back a gasp.

"That's no way to do it! You need to take it all in at once."

His face glowing, burning the brightest of reds as he stumbled backwards. Not so willing to listen in on the conversation any longer as he had only moments before.

"But you need to savor it! Do it nice and slow!"

That was what sent Yoyo into a full retreat. If anything was certain, it was the fact that the young boy wouldn't be able to look either teammate in the eye for a long time to come. Not without some trace of pink tinting his cheeks at least. Little did he know that Jazz was prying open another Oreo cookie and licking the icing off as he rushed hurriedly back from the direction he came from. Attempting to stay as cool and collected as possible.

"After all, the middle is the best part! It's a waste not to enjoy it!"

---

End 002

A/N: I'm a bit happier with how this chapter flows if anything at all. This scene was thought of while I was playing JSRF this afternoon during spare, trying to think of what the hell to write for the middle's prompt. Don't know exactly where said inspiration came from, but my mind works in mysterious ways apparently. Hope you enjoyed this one, as much as I had fun messing with Yoyo's mind.


	3. As the Credits Roll

**Ficlit:** As the Credits Roll  
**Rating:** K+  
**Characters**: Jazz, Boogie, Yoyo, Rhyth, Combo, Corn, and Clutch  
**Prompt #003:** Endings (As if you didn't see that one coming)  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Jet Set Radio Future, or it's characters. They belong to the geniuses that created them.

---

"Damn, that shit was depressing." Combo stated, breaking the pregnant silence that settled over the current occupants of the living room as if a thin film of dust.

Beside him Rhyth was wiping a few stray tears off her cheeks beside him, Jazz hiccupping lightly. Boogie was fighting the urge to cry as well like the other females in the room. Yoyo was biting his lip from his spot on the floor, Corn wearing a deep frown set into his features like stone. The only light in the room was given off from the dim ending credits of the movie.

It wasn't long before Clutch entered the room, taking a moment to assess the situation while turning on the lights. An action that earned him quite a few negative comments as they were thrown into their current state of momentary blindness. The red-head shrugged as he made his was to where the old VCR case was laying.

"What the hell are you all sobbing over anyways?"

They always said that curiosity killed the cat.

"Really, guys? _Really_?"

Most of them suddenly looked sheepish. Clutch would've laughed but this time he honestly couldn't believe what he was seeing,

"Fox and the Hound? Come on guys, seriously?"

--

A/N: This one is closer to a drabble in length rather than a ficlit but shhh. I will never know how people get exactly 100 words when writing them. This was my god honest attempt to get to that meager 100 words but failed. The word count ended up being 209 words in length. That's without this, and the notes at the beginning.


End file.
